


Warmth

by musicprincess1990



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cold Molly, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Sherlock's Coat, hot sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicprincess1990/pseuds/musicprincess1990
Summary: Based on sherlollythoughtoftheday: Sherlock and Molly can never agree on the temperature on the thermostat. Molly always wants it warmer, so Sherlock just tosses his coat over her. “There. Are you warm?” “…yes.”





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write this one up ages ago, but never got around to it. Life happens, you know? Anyway, here's a bit of Sherlolly fluff to brighten your day!

Molly huddled against the corner of the sofa, hands wrapped around a cuppa, greedily soaking up the warmth. Meanwhile, Sherlock lounged less than four feet away, comfortable as could be, the topmost button of that damned purple shirt popped open. Not that she minded the view, but really, wasn’t he even the least bit chilled?

_No, because he's just so bloody_ _HOT_.

Molly sipped her tea to avoid showing amusement at her own private joke. The hot, soothing liquid provided temporary relief, but in a moment, she was back to suppressing shivers. Sherlock scrolled through his emails, or perhaps his Twitter feed, looking for cases, and Molly hated to disturb him. She sat quietly, book propped open in her lap, thinking warm thoughts and sipping her tea.

Of course, once the tea was gone, things got a bit more difficult. She stretches the arms of her jumper to cover ice-cold fingers, and curled her legs up close to her chest. That, it seemed, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sherlock muttered, bolting to his feet and out the door. Before Molly could ask, a warm, black, woollen something hit her in the face. That warm, black, woollen something, she soon realized, was his coat.

“There,” he said tersely, sitting on the sofa again. “Are you warm now?”

Molly didn’t bother to hide her smile as she snuggled up beneath the heavenly-smelling Belstaff. “…Yes.”

He huffed, not meeting her gaze, and went back to scrolling on his phone. Molly was having none of that. Sherlock might not be one for overt displays of affection, but he could certainly be very sweet when he wanted to be. And these sweet moments were a large part of what kept her in this relationship.

The sex wasn’t half bad, either.

Molly scooted closer to him, ignoring the confused frown he shot her, and the way he stiffened when her coat-clad shoulder brushed against his. He’d need to get used to it, if they were ever going to make this work.

“I would be much warmer if you’d put your arm around me,” she encouraged, tossing a wide-eyed, innocent look over her shoulder.

His left brow slowly rose, but the sparkle in his eyes and the subtle upturn of his lips told her she was in no danger of upsetting him. “Yes, I’m sure you would,” he agreed, then returned to his phone, ignoring her unspoken request. _The git._

Molly wasn’t about to give up. She curled herself into the tightest ball she could manage, covering every inch of her with his coat, and let herself shiver. She even gave a few well-timed clacks of the teeth, before she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. Heaving a sigh, he relented, slinging his arm over her shoulders and pulling her near.

“Infuriating woman,” he mumbled.

“Impossible man,” she shot back.

His eyes narrowed as they met hers. “How do you expect me to get any work done?”

Molly smiled, slowly inching closer, until their breaths mingled. His became more erratic, and she put a hand over his heart, gratified at the unsteady beat pulsing beneath her fingers.

“That’s easy, Sherlock,” she whispered against his lips, while her hand moved to toy with the buttons of his shirt. “I _don’t_.”


End file.
